


Dragnet - Missing Persons

by DonSample



Series: The Facts of Unlife [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Dragnet (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 13:57:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4879471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DonSample/pseuds/DonSample
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sgt Friday investigates a series of disappearances from Hemery High School. Set during the time of the <i>Buffy the Vampire Slayer</i> movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act I

This is the city: Los Angeles, California. Nearly four million people live here. A quarter million of them are between the ages of fifteen and nineteen. Sometimes one of these children disappears. That’s when I go to work. I carry a badge. 

The story you are about to read is true. The names have been changed to protect the innocent. 

* * *

## Act I

It was Wednesday, May 1. It was hot in Los Angeles. We were working the day watch out of Missing Persons. The boss is Captain Grey; my partner is Bill Gannon; my name is Friday. 

It was 12:35 PM when the call came in. A teenaged girl had disappeared. She was the fourth student from Hemery High who had disappeared in the past month. I suspected that drugs were involved. Bill and I rolled on it. 

* * *

We arrived at the home of Alexandra Clarke at 1:07 PM. The house was in an upscale neighbourhood, populated by middle class professionals and their families. I rang the doorbell. The door was answered by a maid who spoke with a Spanish accent, most likely an illegal immigrant, but I didn’t have probable cause to ask to see her green card. 

I identified myself as a Los Angeles Police Force Detective, and showed her my badge. The maid took us into the living room where Mrs. Clarke was waiting. She was an attractive, middle-aged caucasian woman, dark hair, in curls, dyed to cover the grey. She was five feet, four inches tall, and approximately one hundred forty pounds. She was looking distraught, but still trying to put forward the image of a perfect hostess. She directed us toward a couple of comfortable chairs. Bill and I sat down, and Bill took out his note pad, and a pen. “Would you gentlemen like any coffee?” she asked us. 

“No, thank you, ma’am,” I told her. “We prefer to get right to our investigation. You reported that your daughter, Alexandra, didn’t come home last night?” 

“That’s right,” she said. 

“What time did you last see her?” 

“It was about seven o’clock,” said Mrs. Clarke. “She went out right after dinner.” 

“What was she wearing?” asked Bill. 

“Um, blue jeans, a red blouse, and a yellow leather jacket that she’d borrowed from her friend Diamond.” 

Bill wrote down the description. “Did she say where she was going?” I asked. 

“She was going to meet a friend.” 

“What was the friend’s name?” asked Bill. 

“Muffy Winters.” 

“Did she say where?” I asked. 

“They were to meet at the school.” 

“Why?” asked Bill. 

“She was helping Muffy with her homework.” 

“Does Alexandra do that sort of thing often?” 

“Yes. She’s a good student. Top of all her classes. She often helps her friends with their homework.” 

“Have you spoken with Muffy?” I asked. 

“No, I called her home at about eleven o’clock, but her mother said that Muffy wasn’t home yet.” 

“Has Alexandra ever stayed out all night before?” 

“She’s stayed with friends, but she’s always called before.” 

“Does Alexandra have a boyfriend?” asked Bill. 

“I don’t think so. She’s been on a few dates, but nothing serious.” 

“I have to ask this question," I said, "but is your daughter involved with drugs?” 

“No! She’s a good girl! She’s never been in any trouble! She wouldn’t do anything like that!” 

I looked at Bill, and nodded. The parents are always the last to know. 

* * *

We got permission from Mrs. Clarke to examine Alexandra’s room. It looked like a typical teenager’s bedroom, for a teenager who had a maid. Everything was neat and tidy: the bed was made, and there were no clothes on the floor. An expensive portable computer was sitting on her desk. I let Bill look at it, I knew next to nothing about the newfangled machines; Bill had taken a course in how to use them. I searched Alexandra’s drawers, paying special attention to her underwear drawer. That’s where teenage girls tended to hide things from their parents. I didn’t find any drugs, even after searching it three times. 

Bill found nothing on Alexandra’s computer either: some half finished homework; a diary that intermingled the usual teen gushing about boys with more serious entries on the state of the environment and the plight of the homeless; an address book with the names of her friends. Bill printed off a copy of that last item: we’d want to talk with those people, maybe one of them was her drug connection. 

Bill also opened Alexandra’s email. Here, at last, it looked like we’d hit pay-dirt. Half of her incoming mail seemed to be offering prescription medications, or information about all sorts of perverted sex acts. I knew it! This girl had been lured into the seamy underworld of sex and drugs, and her parents didn’t have a clue! She must not be very satisfied with her boyfriend either. Half the drugs she was interested in were for enlarging his penis, or improving his stamina. 

Bill didn’t seem to think that this was important though. “It’s all just spam, Joe.” 

“Spam?” 

“Yeah, spam.” 

“What does a canned meat product have to do with sex and drugs?” 

“Nothing, Joe.” 

“So why did you say this was spam?” 

“That’s just what it’s called.” 

“What what’s called?” 

“The spam.” 

I shook my head. Bill was a great partner, but some days he just made no sense at all. 

We got Mrs. Clarke’s permission to take Alexandra’s computer with us. I wanted the lab boys to have a look at it. Maybe they could trace back to where all those sex and drug messages were coming from. 

* * *

Bill and I arrived at Hemery High at 3:12 PM, shortly after the end of classes for the day. We checked in at the school office and were told that we would likely find Muffy Winters at cheerleader practice in the gym. A secretary escorted us to the entrance to the girls’ locker room, and pointed out Miss Winters to us as she approached. Muffy Winters was about fifteen years old, blonde caucasian, approximately five feet, two inches tall, and weighed about one hundred pounds. She was sucking on a lollipop. 

I produced my badge. “Excuse me, Miss Winters? My name is Sergeant Friday, this is Officer Gannon.” 

Miss Winters looked startled, and pulled the lollipop from her mouth. “Huh? What?” 

“We’d like to talk to you about Alexandra Clarke.” 

“What about Alex?” asked Miss Winters. “Is she in trouble?” 

“I hope not. She’s missing.” 

“Really?” asked Miss Winters. “Since when?” 

“Since last night.” 

“So, what’s this got to do with me?” asked Miss Winters. “I haven’t seen Alex since yesterday afternoon.” 

“Her mother said she was supposed to meet you last night.” said Bill. 

“Oh…right…yeah, uh…something came up, I never saw her.” 

“What came up?” I asked her. 

“I…uh…met this guy,” said Miss Winters. 

“What guy?” I asked. 

“Just a guy. He took me to a cem— uh, a club.” 

“What club?” 

“Uh…Club 5, over on Alverada Street,” said Muffy. 

I looked at Bill, and saw that he had written down the club name. I knew it. It was a popular hangout for teenagers in this neighbourhood. “Did anyone see you there?” I asked. 

“Sure!” said Muffy. “Lots of people!” 

I could feel that she was lying, but I didn’t have any proof, and I doubted if anyone from the club would contradict her story. I expected that Muffy was a regular there. Even if she hadn’t been there last night, there would be people who would swear that she had been. 

Girls started coming out of the locker room. “Hurry up, Muffy!” one of them told her. “We have to get our routines down!” 

“Uh…If you guys are done, I have to get changed,” said Muffy. 

I looked at Bill. He shrugged at me. We were done for now, but I expected that I would have more questions for Muffy Winters in the future. 


	2. Act II

## Act II

Two weeks went by, during which no sign was found of Alexandra Clarke. Some of the other missing persons did turn up though: dead. The cause of death was massive damage to their throats. The news media started to call the killer “the Slasher.” We withheld certain details of the murders from the press. This was standard procedure. We could identify genuine witnesses and suspects if they knew of the withheld details. The most important detail we had withheld was also the most puzzling: all of the victims had been drained of blood. I was beginning to think that my drug theory might not be correct. We might be dealing with some sort of bizarre cult. 

* * *

I arrived in the squad room on the morning of May 15. Bill was already there. He was reading a book on vampires. “Why are you reading that trash?” I asked him. 

Bill looked up from the book. “It’s not trash, Joe,” he told me. “This book is full of valuable pieces of information.” 

“Such as?” I asked. 

“Such as this.” He pushed the book into my hands, and pointed to the chapter title. 

I read it. “‘Ten Ways to Protect Yourself From Vampires.’” I looked up at him. “You’re afraid of vampires now, Bill?” 

“Oh, sure, you may scoff,” said Bill, “But legends of vampires exist in nearly all cultures, and everyone knows that legends are based on facts.” 

I shook my head. I had heard that ‘legends are based on facts’ line too many times. Legends were just legends. Scary stories told around the campfire, late at night. “If you say so, Bill.” 

“I don’t expect to find real vampires.” 

“No, of course not,” I said. 

“I think we could be dealing with some sort of vampire cult. Some sick kids who take Anne Rice seriously, something like that.” 

“That’s possible.” 

“I thought it would be a good idea to learn a little something about them.” 

I had to admit that Bill might have a point. It did look like we were looking for a cult. The book might give us some insights into how they thought. I had more faith in old fashioned police work though. 

We spent the morning reviewing our interview notes, looking for any details that we might have missed before. Our efforts didn’t pay off. That’s the way it often was. Most of police work was endless routine, sifting through the mountains of evidence, looking for one or two jewels of real information. It was almost noon when the word came in. A body matching Alexandra Clarke’s description had been found in a patch of woods, not far from her school. 

* * *

We arrived on the scene as the Scientific Investigation Division people were just finishing up. Some of them were looking a little green. The body appeared to have lain out in the open for the full two weeks, and it was badly decomposed. I asked the lead SID investigator at the scene how sure he was of his identification. 

“Pretty sure,” he said. 

“What makes you sure?” I asked. 

“The clothes match the description we had,” said the investigator. “That yellow leather jacket is pretty distinctive.” 

“Anything else?” asked Bill. 

“This was in her pocket.” He handed me a Hemery High Student ID card, in a plastic evidence bag. It was Alexandra Clarke’s. “Of course, it could be some other girl, who borrowed the jacket, or something like that. We’ll have confirm it back at the lab. DNA, compare her dental records, the usual.” 

“How about asking her mother to make a visual identification?” I asked. 

He shook his head. “No. She’s too badly decomposed for that, and I wouldn’t want to subject her family to that sort of thing. She is definitely going to have a closed casket funeral.” 

“Could it be the Slasher?” asked Bill. 

He shrugged. “Some animals have been at her. The body is pretty messed up. We’ll have to wait for the autopsy to be sure. There doesn’t seem to be much blood though. It could be that she was killed and bled out somewhere else though, and the body was just dumped here.” 

Bill and I examined the scene for ourselves, but we didn’t really expect to find anything. The last two weeks had had several storms; the rain would have washed away much of the evidence. We gave permission for the medical examiner to take the body away. 

* * *

We proceeded on the assumption that it was Alexandra Clarke’s body, until the lab could tell us otherwise. It was time to talk with everyone who had seen Alexandra that last day again, see if they still maintained the same stories. 

We arrived in the office of Murray Gary, Chief Administrator of Hemery High School, at 2:56 PM. We questioned him about Alexandra Clarke, and her friends. 

“So, Miss Clarke was a good student?” I asked. 

“An excellent student,” said Mr. Gary. 

“Ever skip any classes?” 

“No. Good attendance record: only missed three days last year, when she had her appendix out.” 

“Good grades?” asked Bill. 

“Top of most of her classes.” 

“There hasn’t been any drop off in her grades or attendance recently?” he asked. 

“No, sir,” said Mr. Gary. “Both are still top rate, until, you know, a couple of weeks ago.” 

“How about her friends?” I asked. 

“What about them?” asked Mr. Gary. 

“Any of her friends have attendance, or grade problems?” 

Mr. Gary looked uncomfortable. “There is one girl…I don’t know if it’s really important.” 

“Let us be the judge of that.” 

“Muffy Winters,” said Mr. Gary. 

Bill and I exchanged a look, and I saw him write the name in his notebook, and underline it. This was the second time Miss Winters’ name had come up. “What about Miss Winters?” I asked. 

“I don’t know it if means anything, but her attendance has been off lately, and her grades…well, her grades have never been anything to write home about, other than—you know—her report cards. We do write them, and send them to the students’ homes.” 

“Of course,” I said, “but what has happened with her grades recently?” 

“They’ve gotten even lower.” 

“And her attendance?” 

“She’s already been late three times this week, and it’s only Wednesday.” 

“Have there been any other problems?” asked Bill. 

“Just this morning she assaulted one of the members of the basketball team. Just grabbed him and threw him down onto the floor. Half a dozen witnesses say she did it for no reason.” 

“What did she say?” I asked. 

“She claimed that he grabbed her a— uh derriere, but I don’t think that could be true. All of our athletes have taken gender sensitivity courses, and know that such behaviour is not allowed.” 

I nodded understanding. Even without the new-age pansy courses, high school athletics where where young men learned the fundamentals of fair play, and moral behaviour. “So, do you think that Miss Winters has a drug problem?” 

“I don’t like to think such things about any of my students,” said Mr. Gary, “but I think she might. She denied it, of course, when I asked her about it, but denial is one of the signs.” 

“Could we look in her locker?” I asked. 

“Yes, of course,” said Mr. Gary. “Just let me look up her locker combination.” 

* * *

Mr. Gary took us to Miss Winters’ locker. It contained the usual items: school books, a cheerleading uniform, some make-up and hair spray. I sniffed the uniform, to see if it had been cleaned recently. It had. 

There was a gym bag in the bottom of the locker. I pulled it out, and opened it. It contained a strange assortment of items. The first thing I pulled out was a large wooden cross. “Is Miss Winters very religious?” I asked. 

“Not that I’ve noticed,” said Mr. Gary. “We aren’t allowed to ask about things like that though.” 

I nodded. We were getting a lot of that woolly headed thinking in the department lately too. That’s the sort of thing that happened when the hippies grew up, and started running the country. 

The gym bag also contained some wooden stakes, and plastic bottles full of a clear, colourless, liquid. I opened one, and sniffed it. It was odourless too. Something else for the lab boys to look at. I’d heard of people putting LSD into water, or it may have been some other drug. 

I asked Mr. Gary if he knew where Miss Winters might be right now, and he said that she was supposed to be at a cheerleader practice, but with her uniform here in her locker, it seemed that that wasn’t likely. He took us to the gymnasium anyway, where we observed the school’s cheerleaders practising their routines for several minutes before we interrupted them to ask if they knew Miss Winters’ whereabouts. They told us that Muffy had missed several practices over the last couple of weeks, and none of them had any idea where she might be. Diamond—the girl who the yellow leather jacket belonged to—told us that she thought that Muffy had a new boyfriend that she was spending time with. 

“Do you know his name?” I asked her. 

“Trout, or Perch, or something like that,” said Diamond. “Some sort of fish, anyway.” 

“Is he a student here?” asked Bill. 

“No!” said Diamond. “He’s some sort of scuzz. A total sleaze!” 

“Do you know where we might find him?” I asked. 

“Negatory! You think I’d know someone like that!” 

“I think I saw him at Zeph’s garage, on Seventh Street,” said another girl. Diamond gave her an astonished look. “Hey! I was there getting gas for Daddy’s BMW! He said that if I brought it home empty one more time, he’d take my keys away!” 

I looked at Bill, and he nodded. He had gotten all that down in his notebook. We turned to leave. 

“Oh, Sergeant Friday?” asked Diamond. 

I turned back to her. “Yes?” 

“Is there any chance I could get my jacket back?” 

* * *

It was 4:56 PM when we arrived at the Winters home. I rang the doorbell. It was answered by a young girl, brunette caucasian, maybe nine or ten years old. I showed her my badge. “May I speak with your parents, please?” 

“Who is it, Dusk?” called a woman from somewhere in the house. 

“A couple of cops!” called the little girl. 

“Oh!” An attractive blonde woman appeared in the hall. “Is this about those parking tickets, because I told the officer—” 

“It’s not about parking tickets ma’am,” I told her. “I’m Sergeant Friday. This is my partner, Officer Gannon. We’re investigating the death of Alexandra Clarke. May we come in?” 

“Oh, of course!” She looked at the young girl. “Dusk, why don’t you go watch TV in your room?” 

Mrs. Winters directed us into her living room. “How can I help you? I’ve only met Alexandra a couple of times, when she came over to help Muffy with her homework.” 

“Actually, it’s Muffy we want to talk to,” I told her. “Is she here?” 

“No, she’s not home.” 

“Do you know where we could find her?” asked Bill. 

“I think she has cheerleader practice now.” 

“We’ve just come from the school,” I said. “She wasn’t there.” 

“Oh, well, maybe she’s with her boyfriend, Bobby.” 

“Bobby?” I asked. “Don’t you mean, um…” I looked at Bill. 

Bill flipped back a couple of pages in his notebook. “Trout, or Perch, or some sort of fish.” 

“No,” said Mrs. Winters. “I’m pretty sure that her boyfriend is Bobby. I think he’s on the basketball team.” 

I looked at Bill, and nodded. The parents were always the last to know. Muffy had taken up with some new guy, from the wrong side of the tracks, and she hadn’t told them about him yet. 

I stood up. “Well, thank you, Mrs. Winters.” I took a card from my pocket, and handed it to her. “If you could call us, when your daughter comes home, We’d appreciate it.” 

* * *

Our next stop was Zeph’s garage. The owner told us that he used to have a young man working for him, named Bass. He had also rented a room over the garage to him, but he had quit his job, and moved out a week ago. He hadn’t left a forwarding address. 

* * *

We had reached the end of our watch, and it seemed that we had only turned up more dead ends. Bill and I called it a night. 


	3. Act III

## Act III

There were several reports waiting for us, when Bill and I arrived in the squad room the next morning. It had been a busy night. The first report came from Homicide. An unidentified body had been found in the Pasadena parade float storage grounds. This death didn’t match the profile of the other Slasher victims, but it had been forwarded to us anyway: the man had been killed by a wooden stake through his heart. The forensic reports indicated that there was an unusual powdery substance present at the scene. They had been unable to identify it, yet, but it was organic in origin. Tests were being made to see if it was some new, previously unknown, drug. 

The second report was about a call from Murray Gary at the school. Tony Groater, one of the missing students, had been seen last night. He had turned up briefly at the school basketball game. He had taken part in the game for a few minutes, during which he had committed several fouls, and had then been chased from the court by Muffy Winters. 

The third report indicated that Mrs. Winters had called, concerned that Muffy had not come home last night. 

The fourth report was from the lab. The bottles from Muffy Winters locker had contained water, with a trace of salt added to it. There were no drugs. Some joker in the lab had attached a Post-it® note to the report indicating that the level of salt was consistent with traditional types of holy water. I decided that Bill wasn’t the only one who had vampires on the brain. 

The fifth report, from the medical examiner, confirmed that the body found in the woods was Alexandra Clarke, and that she had died of exsanguination. She was another Slasher victim. 

* * *

Our first call was at the school, to talk to witnesses about what had happened at last night’s basketball game. Mr. Gary introduced us to the team coach. 

“So, Groater showed up for the game?” I asked him. 

“Yeah,” said the coach. “He’d missed a lot of practices, I didn’t want to let him play, but…well…he seemed psyched, you know. He really came to play, and I just couldn’t leave him out.” 

“Was there anything unusual about him?” I asked. 

“Well, he doesn’t usually play nearly as well as he did last night,” said the coach. 

“What was different?” 

“He normally isn’t nearly as…aggressive. He was totally taking the ball for himself, wasn’t sharing it with anyone. Scored five baskets in the first five minutes.” 

“Anything else?” asked Bill. 

“Well, he did get five fouls called against him too, in the same time, but the other team missed some of their foul shots, so we still came out ahead.” 

“What happened then?” I asked. 

“That was the weirdest thing,” said the coach. “He was arguing with the referee, who was trying to throw him out of the game, and one of the cheerleaders, Muffy Winters, suddenly ran out onto the court. Groater ran away from her. Neither of them came back. I don’t know what that was about. We could have used him for the rest of the game.” 

I looked at Bill. “Did you get all that?” 

Bill looked up from his notebook. “Yes, Joe, I did.” 

“What do you think?” 

“About what?” 

“Groater’s behaviour.” 

“Could be PCP,” said Bill. 

“Yeah,” I said. “The increased aggression, and other behaviour changes are consistent with that.” 

“But what about Muffy Winters?” he asked. 

“I don’t know.” 

* * *

Our next stop was with the Homicide detectives who were investigating the stabbing in the parade grounds. We didn’t know if it had anything to do with our case, but the Slasher had several people thinking ‘vampire cult’ and here we had someone killed using a traditional method for disposing of a vampire. 

Detectives Sam Johnson, and Jan Keyley were waiting for us. 

“What can you tell me about your victim?” I asked. 

“We haven’t been able to identify him yet,” said Johnson. 

“Do you have anything?” asked Bill. 

“Male, caucasian, about five foot, ten inches, one hundred sixty pounds, about fifty years old,” said Keyley. “Appeared to be in good health, well fed and clothed. Not a homeless person. The M.E. says that he has some old bruises, like he’s been in some fights recently, but nothing serious. She said that the bruises were consistent with someone who practised martial arts.” 

“And the murder weapon?” I asked. 

Johnson pulled a large plastic evidence bag out of his desk drawer. “Here it is.” He handed me the bag. 

I examined its contents. It was an ornate wooden cross, with an elongated bottom arm, sharpened to a point. “Any finger prints?” I asked. 

“Only the victim’s,” said Keyley. “From their position on the cross, and the angle of the wound, it almost looks like he stabbed himself.” She picked up a letter opener off her desk, and held it with its tip pointed down toward her chest. She mimed stabbing herself with it. “Like this.” 

Bill looked up from his notebook. “Are you saying you think this was a suicide?” 

“Not saying anything, yet,” said Johnson. “Not ruling it out, either. Makes more sense than the guy being killed by some sort of vampire hunter.” 

“What about the powder?” I asked. 

“What about it?” asked Keyley. 

“Has it been identified yet?” 

“Yes.” 

“Is it a drug?” 

“No.” Keyley shook her head. “It’s not a drug.” 

“What is it?” 

“It’s ashes.” 

“Ashes?” asked Bill. 

“That’s right.” 

“What sort of ashes?” 

“Animal ashes,” said Keyley. “Maybe human. The composition is consistent with the ash left over when a body is cremated.” 

* * *

There was a message waiting for us when we got back to the office. Muffy Winters had turned up at home. We quickly called the Winters home to determine if Muffy was still there. She was. We asked Mrs. Winters to keep her there, until we could arrive to speak with her. 

It was 1:14 PM when we arrived at the Winters home. Mrs. Winters escorted us into the livingroom, where Muffy was waiting. Muffy was looking like she was upset about something. Her eyes were puffy, like she had been crying recently, and she didn’t look like she had gotten much sleep recently. She cast an unhappy look at her mother, who wasn’t looking very pleased either. 

“Miss Winters, I need to ask you a few questions,” I told her, after taking a seat. 

“Go ahead,” said Muffy. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“You told us that you went to Club 5, on the night of April 30,” I said. 

“I guess,” said Muffy. “What night was that?” 

“That was the night that you were supposed to meet Alexandra Clarke to do your homework together.” 

“Oh yeah,” said Muffy. “I went to the club instead.” 

“We’ve talked with several members of the staff, and they don’t remember seeing you there.” said Bill. 

“Well, it’s a busy club,” said Muffy. “They probably just missed me.” 

“You said that you went with a guy?” I asked. 

“Uh, yeah.” 

“Who was it?” 

“His name’s Bass,” said Muffy. 

“Your new boyfriend,” 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” said Muffy. “He’s just a guy I met.” 

“Is ‘Bass’ his first name, or his last name?” asked Bill. 

“Don’t know,” said Muffy. “He’s just told me ‘Bass.’” 

“Where could we find him?” I asked. 

“I don’t know. I’ve just seen him around.” 

“Around where?” 

“Here and there,” said Muffy. 

“I don’t think you appreciate the severity of the situation, young lady,” I told her. “This isn’t a missing person case anymore. We are investigating a homicide! ‘Around’ and ‘here and there’ don’t cut it. It looks to me like you’re lying to us.” 

“I didn’t see Alexandra that night!” said Muffy. “I didn’t go to the school to meet her! If I had, she might still be alive!” 

I believed her, but I still felt that she knew something about this case that she wasn’t telling us, and she was lying about something. I decided to switch to a different topic for a while. “You were at the basketball game, last night?” I asked. 

“Yeah, I was there.” 

“You didn’t stay there.” 

“No, I didn’t,” said Muffy. “I was a sucky game.” 

“We were told that you chased Mr. Groater off the court.” said Bill. 

“Yeah, well, he owes me twenty bucks,” said Muffy flippantly. 

“Muffy!” said Mrs. Winters. 

“You really don’t seem to understand how important this is,” I told her. “Over four thousand kids your age are reported missing every year in Los Angeles. Most of them are runaways, and nearly all of them turn up again, when they learn how tough living on the streets can be, but sixty of those kids didn’t disappear of their own free will, they were abducted, and many of them are never seen alive again, like what happened with Alexandra Clarke. Tony Groater had been missing from just a few days after Alexandra disappeared, and he turned up last night, until you chased him away again.” 

“If Groater had been abducted, or something like that, do you really think he would have chosen to show up at a basketball game, if he’d got away from whoever did it to him?” asked Muffy. 

That was a very good question, but I couldn’t let Miss Winters take control of the conversation. “You let us worry about that. You chased Mr. Groater away from the basketball game last night.” 

“More like the referee threw him out, and I followed him,” said Muffy. 

“Where did you follow him?” asked Bill. 

“Out of the school. He got away from me after that.” 

“So where were you all night?” 

“I ran into a friend, spent the night with him.” 

“Muffy!” said Mrs. Winters, clearly shocked by the idea of her daughter spending the night with a boy. 

“Not like that!” said Muffy. “We’re just friends. He hasn’t even kissed me, yet.” 

“Would this friend be Mr. Bass?” I asked. 

“Yeah.” 

“So where did you go?” asked Bill. 

“He gave me a ride on his motorcycle. We went up into the hills. I wasn’t really paying much attention to exactly where we were.” 

“You rode around on his motorcycle all night?” I asked. 

“Well, we stopped at a couple of places. Looked at the view. Talked about some stuff.” 

“What did you talk about?” 

Muffy Winters took a deep breath. She seemed to make a decision. For a second I thought that she had finally decided to tell us the truth. 

“Vampires,” said Muffy. 

“What?” I asked. 

“Vampires,” said Muffy. “They prowl the night, suck the blood of the living.” 

“Why did you talk about vampires?” I asked. 

“Come on, you must have noticed,” said Muffy. “All the missing people. Bodies turning up with their throats ripped out. When some of the missing people do turn up ‘alive’ again, it’s always at night, and they’re acting weird.” 

“You’re saying that Mr. Groater is a vampire?” asked Bill. 

“Yep.” 

“And why did he run away?” 

“Because he knew that I knew.” 

“So why didn’t Alexandra Clarke come back to life?” I asked. 

“Not life,” said Muffy. “Vampires are still dead. Most of the people they take are just a meal. They only sire a few, when they need more minions.” 

I looked at her. She appeared to be speaking completely in earnest. I don’t know what disturbed me more: that she might actually believe the line that she was feeding me, or that she could lie so well, that for a moment, I almost believed it myself. “Miss Winters, I think that you’d better come with us.” 

“Just a minute!” said Mrs. Winters. “Are you arresting my daughter?” 

“No,” I said. “We just want to take her down to the station, for more questioning.” 

“I’ve spoken with my lawyer,” said Mrs. Winters. “You can’t take her anywhere, without my permission, if you aren’t arresting her!” 

“We could arrest her, if you want us to,” I told her. “Do you really want that?” 

“I think that Muffy had better not say any more to you, without my lawyer present.” 

I paused to think. Other that a marked lack of cooperation, we didn’t really have any evidence that linked Muffy Winters to this case. The paraphernalia we’d found in her locker was suggestive, but half the department was making vampire jokes. It could be dismissed as just an over-impressionable teenager, scared by the stories appearing in the press. We might be able to make an obstruction of justice charge stick, if we could prove that she lied to us, but so far, we couldn’t prove it. Once Mrs. Winters requested that her lawyer be present before more questioning, we couldn’t ask any more questions without him, and once the lawyer did arrive, he would no doubt tell the Winters not to answer any more questions anyway. That’s what lawyers always did. 

I stood up. “Very well, Mrs. Winters. In that case, I guess we’re done for today.” 

“You’re not going to arrest her,” said Mrs. Winters. 

“Not at this time,” I told her. 

Mrs. Winters escorted us to the door. “Good day, Sergeant.” 

“Good day, Mrs. Winters.” I paused. “You know, it really would be best for Muffy to really tell us what she knows.” 

“She’s a good girl,” said Mrs. Winters. “I can’t believe that she’s involved in this.” 

“It seems that she’s involved in something she doesn’t want to tell you, or us about,” I told her. “And I don’t think it’s just a new boyfriend that you won’t approve of. If she won’t talk to us, maybe she’ll talk to you, or your husband.” 

“My husband is in Sacramento, on a business trip,” said Mrs. Winters. “And since when did teenagers tell their parents anything?” 

I shrugged, and said goodbye. Bill and I walked back toward our car, which was parked in the driveway. 

Bill waited until after Mrs. Winters had closed the door. “Maybe we should have arrested her, Joe,” he said. “A little time in Juvenile, might have scared some sense into her.” 

“If I thought she’d get that far, I would have,” I said. “But her lawyer would probably have her sprung by the time we finished booking her. We really have nothing to hold her on.” 


	4. Act IV

## Act IV

I was enjoying a Saturday evening at home, watching TV, when my telephone rang at 11:35. It was Bill. He told me to switch to the news on channel 6. I did. There was a live report in progress. I could see fire engines, and a smouldering building behind the reporter. I recognized the building: it was the Hemery High School gymnasium. 

“There are conflicting reports of how the fire was started,” said the reporter. “Most witnesses agree that the trouble began when a gang invaded the Hemery High prom, but none of the gang members have been identified, or taken into custody.” 

I turned off the TV. There was little chance of actually learning anything useful from it. “Meet me at the school,” I told Bill over the phone. 

“You’re on my way,” said Bill. “Maybe I should pick you up.” 

“No,” I said. “I want to get there as quickly as possible.” 

“Alright, Joe. I’ll meet you there.” 

I called the station, to report to the captain that Bill and I were going to Hemery High, before I grabbed my coat, and car keys. 

* * *

Uniformed officers were directing traffic around the school, detouring motorists, and keeping sight-seers away from the scene. I showed them my identification to be admitted. 

The scene was organized chaos. Fire crews were still working, spraying water onto the remaining hotspots. Paramedics were tending to injured students in their prom clothes. The scene was lit by the flashing lights from the patrol cars, ambulances, and fire engines. 

A perimeter had been set up, to keep all of the civilians away from the scene. I could see vans from three local television stations, outside the perimeter, in addition to the crowd of curious onlookers. 

I approached Sergeant MacDonald, at the police command post, and asked him what had happened. 

“Reports are pretty confused,” he told me. 

“Just give them to me straight,” I told him. 

“Well, it seems that a gang disguised in some sort of Halloween fright masks crashed the prom,” said Sergeant MacDonald. 

“What happened next?” I asked. 

“They surrounded the building, and demanded that the people inside send out one of the students.” He consulted his notes. “A Muffy Winters. They said that if they sent her out, they wouldn’t hurt anyone.” 

I nodded. I wasn’t the least bit surprised to learn that she was involved. 

“It seems that Miss Winters volunteered to go out, and hardly anyone tried to talk her out of it, except for her boyfriend.” MacDonald checked his notes again. “A Mr. Bass.” 

“Go on,” I told him. 

“Miss Winters went out, and some sort of fight began in the parking lot, before she ran off into the school. Some of the gang members followed her, and the rest turned their attention to the people in the gym.” 

“After promising not to.” 

“They lied,” said Sgt. MacDonald. “Imagine that!” 

“What happened next?” I asked. 

“That’s when things get really confused,” said Sgt. MacDonald. “Half a dozen witnesses claim that they were attacked by ‘monsters’ with fangs, who tried to bite them.” 

“Is there any evidence that they were taking drugs?” 

“Not so far,” said Sgt. MacDonald. “We might want to test for that, though. We’ve asked if any of them were taking anything, but they all denied it, of course.” 

Bill had arrived while I was talking with MacDonald. “It’s possible that someone spiked the punch,” he said. “It used to be that kids would just empty a bottle of gin into it at things like this, but these days, who knows what someone might have added.” 

I looked toward the gym, that was still smoking, and being sprayed with water. “If that’s the case, any evidence has probably been washed away by now.” 

I spotted Miss Winters, near where a couple of paramedics from the fire department were giving oxygen to a boy. It looked like the white skirt from her prom dress had been ripped away. I thanked Sergeant MacDonald, and moved toward them. 

The boy was trying to push the mask away from his face when I approached them. “I’m fine,” he told them. “Go take care of someone who’s sick!” 

The second paramedic was removing a blood pressure cuff from his arm. “BP’s good Roy, 120 over 70. Pulse is 85.” 

“I told you I’m okay,” said the boy. He coughed a couple of times. “Just a little smoke.” 

“Smoke inhalation can be serious,” said Roy. “You should go to the hospital, have the doctors check you out.” 

“I’m fine!” said the boy. “I’m sure that you can find someone around here who needs you a lot more than I do!” 

Roy packed up his oxygen. “Come on, Johnny,” he said to his partner. “Let’s go find someone who will appreciate us.” 

There was a pair of uniformed officers keeping an eye on Miss Winters. I recognized them. Malloy and Reed were good men. I asked Malloy if she’d said anything. 

He shook his head. “Not really. She’s been mostly worried about her friend Bass, there.” 

I approached Miss Winters. “Good evening, Miss Winters.” 

The look she gave me was tired, like she just wanted to go home and sleep. “Sergeant Friday,” she said, her voice flat, and emotionless. 

I still couldn’t question her without her mother’s lawyer, so I turned my attention to her friend Bass. “Care to tell me what happened here tonight?” I asked. 

“Why bother,” he said. “You won’t believe me.” 

“Try me.” 

“A gang of vampires attacked the prom. They mainly wanted to take Muffy to their master: a guy named Lothos. He’s been around for hundreds of years. While some of them were trying to do that, the rest of them attacked the prom. 

“I tried to help defend everyone, but there were too many of them, until Muffy came back. We dusted the vamps in the gym, but then Lothos showed up again. They fought; she dusted him.” 

“Dusted?” asked Bill. 

“Yeah, vamps turn to dust when you put a stake through their hearts.” 

“Actually, it was a pencil,” said Muffy. 

I was beginning to think that these two were truly delusional, perhaps schizophrenic, unable to distinguish between their delusions, and reality. I’d heard of cases where two people shared the same delusion. They even had a name for it: folie a deux. Unless they actually found a body in the remains of the gym that had been killed by a pencil, I didn’t think that Miss Winters had to worry about any homicide charges being filed against her. I asked Bass the next question. “How did the fire get started?” 

“I don’t know,” said Bass. “It must have been the vampires.” 

I sighed. This was getting me nowhere. I waved for Reed and Malloy to come and take both of them away. We could call for Mrs. Winters to come pick up her daughter from the station. 

Bill and I watched as Reed and Malloy escorted Bass and Winters toward their patrol car. The flashing lights, and smoke from the fire obscured our view, so we didn’t have a clear view of what happened next. When the smoke cleared I could see that Reed and Malloy were down on the ground, with Muffy Winters on top of them, and Bass was running. I drew my weapon and shouted for him to stop, but there were too many people in my line of fire. Bill and I, along with other officers attempted to give chase, but he vanished into the crowd. 

We returned to where Reed and Malloy were holding Miss Winters. “What happened?” I asked them. 

Reed and Malloy just looked confused. Miss Winters smirked. “Sorry. I tripped.” 

I frowned at her for a moment before I removed the laminated plastic card from my pocket. Now that she’d helped her friend get away, I had something I could arrest her for. “Miss Winters, you are under arrest.” I started to read from the card. “You have the right to remain silent…” 


	5. Epilogue

## Epilogue:

The story you have just read is true. The names were changed to protect the innocent. 

On June 24, a hearing was held in Juvenile Court, for the County of Los Angeles. In a moment, the results of that hearing. 

. 

. 

. 

Muffy Winters maintained at her hearing that vampires were responsible for the fire at the Hemery High prom. She was required to enter the Hill Psychiatric Clinic for evaluation. She was diagnosed as suffering from a secondary case of a shared psychotic disorder: the primary being her friend Mr. Bass. Removed from his influence, and after two weeks of therapy, her delusions about vampires had ceased, and she was released back into the custody of her parents. Her parents were divorced shortly after she was released, and she, her mother, and younger sister Dusk, moved to Sunnydale California, to start over. 

Bass evaded custody. He is still wanted for questioning about the deaths of Alexandra Clarke and the other Slasher victims, and the fire at Hemery High. There were no more Slasher murders in Los Angeles. 

The murder of Alexandra Clarke remains unsolved. 

### End Notes:

  1. The changed names: 
    * Buffy Summers --> Muffy Winters
    * Joyce Summers --> Mrs. Winters
    * Dawn Summers --> Dusk Winters
    * Cassandra --> Alexandra Clarke
    * Gary Murray --> Murray Gary
    * Pike --> Bass
    * Kimberly --> Diamond
    * Grueller --> Tony Groater
    * Kate Lockley --> Jan Keyley
  2. Guest appearances from other Jack Webb shows: 
    * From Adam 12: 
      * Sergeant MacDonald
      * Officer Pete Malloy
      * Officer Jim Reed
    * From Emergency!: 
      * Paramedic Roy DeSoto
      * Paramedic John Gage




End file.
